Evening My Lovelies (or early morning as I've just realised its 20 past 4 in the morning here! (whoops!))

I ADORE this chapter! I'm hoping it creates some feels for you lovely people, I can't wait to hear what you think of it all :D

Also... Do people want Glenn to survive? He's definitely in a bad way right now and I can't decide how evil I want to be. We'll be focusing on him and that lot in the next chapter most likely so I need to know what people want :D

Notes On Reviews:

pallysd'Artagnan: Thanks for the review - We'll be focusing on D'Art tonight, I still haven't decided how the whole rescuing Glenn thing is going to go, I can't decide if I want to kill him off or not... Plus this scene was too adorable not to write :D Enjoy the new chapter! x

beeblegirl: Thanks for the review - Oh yeah, Athos isn't going to handle the fact that he abandoned the search well once he learns of D'Art's actual fate. Talbot and Fredrick will be getting a chapter all of their own in the next update, let me know if you want Glenn to survive. Enjoy the new chapter! x

Debbie (Guest): Thanks for the review - I've used one of your ideas in this chapter but with Porthos, instead of Athos, hope you like it even though there was a character change. Enjoy the new chapter! x

Issai: Thanks for the review - Oh yeah Athos has his own thing going on right now, I will get to that soon, promise! We'll find out about D'Art tonight... Glenn's fate is still up in the air but I will be addressing it in the next update so I won't keep you waiting much longer. Enjoy the new chapter! x

As always much love and many thanks for following/favouriting/reviewing/reading

Love you all!

Enjoy!

xxx

Chapter Twenty-Three: Rescue I

His brother's sudden silence was honestly one of the most terrifying sounds and the larger musketeer who was doing all he could to remain positive and optimistic as he worked to pry the wooden lid free from the coffin. The dark part of his mind was screaming at him that he was going to open it to find his baby brother dead inside and if it wasn't for the stubborn part of him denying that then he wasn't sure he would have managed to muster the strength to finish getting the lid free, only for any optimism he had been trying to instil in himself to be shattered the instant he was granted a view of the coffin's contents.

Cursing loud and colourfully the larger musketeer was quick to throw the coffin lid to one side, uncaring of where it landed, before reaching inside the wooden box to place two, lightly trembling, fingers to his unmoving baby brother's throat, his own breathing and heartbeat stopping as he anxiously waited for any response from the Gascon. With each second that passed with no reaction both the tears and panic brewing within the musketeer grew and it became harder to keep himself together as he tried to keep it from overwhelming him.

"No," growled Porthos as he violently shook his head before abandoning his search for a pulse to instead pull his brother out of the coffin with the utmost gentleness, quickly pulling him into an embrace where he then placed an ear to the boy's chest, desperate for some kind of sign.

"Not like this kid," he growled, his anger and panic beginning to overpower the rest of his emotions. With a moment of reluctance Porthos gently placed the still unmoving boy onto the ground, taking a moment to brush the hair out of D'Artagnan's eyes as his mind frantically fried to remember anything Aramis or the other physician's might have told him in regards to handling a situation like this, although his growing panic was making it significantly harder to think.

He knew that every second that passed with his brother still unresponsive made it even more unlikely he would ever see the boy's eyes open again and that fact brought tears to the larger man's eyes as his trembling hands moved to gently cup the Gascon's face. "Come on D'Artagnan," he pleaded quietly, lightly stroking his brother's cheeks, absently noticing the obvious tear tracks on the boy's otherwise dirt-covered face. "Don't do this to us D'Artagnan… Don't let Rochefort win… Come on!"

As he continued to beg with no response Porthos's anger continued to grow, his words getting progressively angrier until he finally let his full anger out as he screamed at the unmoving musketeer to fight while simultaneously bringing his palm down, hard, onto the boy's chest, something he might have regretted if it didn't serve to answer his prayers as D'Artagnan let out a large, desperate gasp of air before erupting into a violent coughing fit.

It took several long seconds for Porthos thoroughly stunned mind to properly register what was happening in front of him with his brother's sudden revival but once it had the larger man all but launched himself at the Gascon, pulling the still coughing boy into the tightest embrace he dared without risking cutting off the younger man's air once more.

He wanted nothing more than to revel in the fact that his baby brother was alive and breathing in his arms… that he was safe but the violent tremors racking the younger musketeer's frame quickly dismissed any thoughts of that and instead Porthos felt his heart breaking as he worked to calm the utter terror currently shooting through his baby brother's veins.

"It's okay D'Art," he whispered soothingly as he slowly moved one hand to the younger man's hair, running his fingers through the dark locks in a way he knew had worked to calm the boy in the past. Of course he hadn't been anywhere near as scared as he was at the moment but Porthos hoped the effect would still be the same. "Just breathe," he whispered, gently tightening his hold on the trembling boy. "I've got you… You're safe… Just breathe…"

A few minutes later Porthos began to feel dampness grow on his shirt as D'Artagnan continued to shakily sob in his arms. The larger musketeer paid no attention to the damp patch as he instead focused on continuing his litany of soothing words, hating that they didn't seem to be doing anything to calm the terrified musketeer in his arms. At least that was until he felt trembling fingers eventually find their way to tightly grip the back of his shirt. It was the first sign he had received that D'Artagnan even registered someone was with him and that alone brought tears to the larger musketeer's eyes as he, once again, gently tightened his hold on the scared boy.

He was gifted with another sign some minutes later when D'Artagnan shifted slightly in his arms, the boy's sobs pausing just long enough for him to open his mouth…

"P-P-P-P-Porthos," hiccuped D'Artagnan, his voice was weak and hoarse but to Porthos, it was one of the best sounds he had ever heard.

"Shh," soothed Porthos as he lightly tightened his hold on the boy whose energy he could tell was quickly draining. "It's okay… You're safe… I promise… I've got you."

He had no idea how long he sat there, holding his baby brother as the boy sobbed his heart out in Porthos's arms but the larger musketeer paid no attention to the faint ache growing in his limbs, knowing his brother was far more important than the feeling in his legs.

Eventually, though D'Artagnan's grip on consciousness loosened as the younger man fell asleep in his brother's arms and it was only then that Porthos allowed himself to let out a shaky breath of relief. He knew he was going to have to take a moment soon, on his own to process this close call but for now, he turned his focus on getting his brother somewhere safe. He then had to find Athos, neither of his brothers would benefit from him having a breakdown right now so he shoved his swirling emotions down as deep as he could as he slowly rose from the ground, grimacing at the ache in his legs as he gently manoeuvred his sleeping brother into a more comfortable position in his arms before turning to leave the graveyard.